Wraith Folklore Novels & Stories

Then, she sighed, a long, drawn-out breath that seemed to carry all the weight of the knowledge she was about to share. “A wraith is the result of a death left unfinished, unresolved,” Alice began, her voice soft but tinged with something dark. “It’s a spirit, yes, but not the kind you might think. It’s not a simple ghost. A wraith is born from agony—pure, uncontrollable anger and resentment. When someone dies in such a way, with so much hatred and pain in their heart, they don’t just fade away. They linger. They transform into something... else.”

I say, pushing the final sheet, which now contains full sentences that I had been working on, towards her. She leans down, frowning as she reads the heading. This was a language long forgotten… and although there are still parts of the passage that are too damaged to read, or simply not fully readable, it makes sense overall. “Shadow Wraiths…” Her heart thunders as she scans the page. “Shadow wraiths are subspecies of the wraith family… What on earth… they don’t exist.” “Are you sure?” I ask, sitting back and looking up at her.

"I couldn't help but overhear your plans, and I must correct a dangerous assumption." Liam straightened. "Speak." "Shadow wraiths aren't attracted to despair." The scribe moved to the table, his finger tracing invisible patterns on its surface. "They're drawn to the blood of the innocent. It's documented in the old records that they always appeared during wars and rogue attacks, but specifically where innocent blood was spilled.” "There's no innocent person in this fortress," Cade said. "Everyone here is either a warrior, a criminal, or complicit in our curse."

What they left behind was a horrifying land where malevolent spirits lingered and restless souls refused to dissipate even after a century. There were many legends about Wraith Graveyard, but only a few facts were generally accepted as true. First, it was incredibly easy to get lost inside since countless tombstones stood in dense, chaotic rows along both sides of the pathways, stretching as far as the eye could see. Second, the energy here was extremely hostile to the living, and naturally, no one wanted to venture into a place piled high with the dead. In short, Wraith Graveyard was considered a death zone in the Outlands, and no one entered willingly. Even the most reckless adventurers av

"No it's not. I heard from Joshua the other day, and he heard from his father that they have a book about these things. A wolf would be born of pure white hair, hair that reflects the coldness of her heart. She would rule over the world with Hades one day. There were so many other things but that was all I heard" he said to me wistfully. "Is that all you heard? Really?" I was suddenly interested. Hades and a queen with white hair? That sounded familiar. "Yup. You should ask him if you are interested. The stories he told me were so good I asked for the book.

Growing up together, they had faced countless challenges and had each other's backs through thick and thin. Their childhood memories were filled with laughter, mischief, and a strong sense of camaraderie. However, as they grew older, their paths began to diverge. John, enticed by the allure of power and the seduction of their family's criminal activities, embraced a life of darkness and illicit dealings. He became deeply entangled in the underworld, navigating the treacherous world of organized crime with cunning and ambition. Jake, on the other hand, resisted the pull of his family's illicit empire.

(Matilda’s POV) What an unlucky day, I am going crazy in this search for a mate thing! What is this stupidity to have a mate to rule? Why one would bear an extra person beside her to achieve her dream? This is literally so absurd! Matilda was roaming around when she happened to come across three vampires, her kingdom’s enemy. She was not prepared for a fight as it was a sudden counterattack. She fought with two of them and pushed them back but suddenly the third one jumped on her and just when he was going to attack her a werewolf came from nowhere and fought with such an aura that those vampires got scared and vanished from there.

I found and killed the werewolf but I have yet to find the vampire that is the sole one responsible, because if he hadn't left him weak he would have been able to at least defend himself. I met Whytt on my travels and found out that his mother was kidnapped and killed by werewolves when he was also 15, he has been looking for the werewolves responsible ever since. We became friends and started to hunt together, after a while it just seemed natural and easier to say we were brothers travelling together it made for less questions that way, we were a little low on cash so we took this job. We both wanted to kill her straight away since she was a werewolf but the main condition of the job was sh

The Silas-Wraith. He stood with a massive war-hammer in his hand, the same weapon he had used to strike down anyone who challenged his rule. Behind him stood the Hollowed—thousands of white-furred, soul-less monsters, their eyes glowing with a stagnant violet flame. "Welcome home, children," the wraith’s voice boomed, carrying across the tundra. It wasn't a human voice; it was a grating of stone on stone, a sound that felt like it was pulling the marrow from my bones. "Your mother’s garden is ash. Your father’s mountain is a tomb. And now, you have come to offer the last of the Hallowed blood to the Queen."

The Source had sensed the active Seed in its graveyard. Intrusion detected, a booming, ancient resonance vibrated through the static. The Failed Seeds must be purged. The New Seed must be reclaimed. From the depths of the static, the "Harvesters of the Dead" emerged. They weren't the Centurions we had fought on Earth. They were "Wraiths"—creatures of pure, entropic data designed to scavenge the Liminal Zone. They looked like giant, skeletal hands made of black glass, reaching through the mist to snatch the flickering ghosts of the failed children.